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“My, here is something nice for my collection” 

[Page 82 ] 















BLACKY DAW 

The Story of a Pet Crow 


By 

ADELAIDE PALMER 

fi 


WITH TWENTY FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY DOROTHY SAUNDERS 


BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 
CHICAGO 


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Printed in tlie United States of America 

DEC <5 <$M 32199 







CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Stick Nest. 7 

II Stolen.12 

III My New Home ...... 21 

IV A New Name.28 

V A Taste of Fish.34 

VI Father’s Keys.41 

VII The Kingbird and the Orioles 46 

VIII Green Corn.50 

IX Wash Day.54 

X The Party.60 

XI Fourth of July.71 

XII Dad Cleans His Car .... 79 

XIII At Grandmother’s.85 

XIV School.92 

XV The Patch on the Car ... 102 

XVI Kidnaped .106 

XVII Adrift in the World .... 110 

XVIII At Grandpa’s .117 

XIX Back to the Wild .123 


5 



























































































BLACKY DAW 


CHAPTER I 

THE STICK NEST 

M Y earliest recollection is of a large, loosely 
woven nest of sticks in the top of an old 
elm tree. It wasn’t much of a place to call 
home, but home it was to me. It was a very 
happy, crowded little home, for I was one of 
four baby crows that occupied this nest. 

My old black mother was kept very busy 
providing us children with food. She and my 
father were on the go from early morning till 
late evening, foraging for things for us to eat. 
No matter how much they brought us, they were 
always greeted on their return by four open, red 
mouths. “My, my, will I ever get them filled 
up!” Mother used to say. 

The more she carried the faster we grew. The 
faster we grew the more crowded became the 
nest. Mother was worried, for it would soon 
be time for her babies to leave the nest. She 


7 


8 


BLACKY DAW 


was afraid something would happen to us before 
we learned to take care of ourselves. She was 
also worried for fear some one would rob the nest 
and carry away her babies. 

When she started out she would say to us, 
“Now children, do be quiet; don’t get to fussing 
around, for fear some of you fall out of the 
nest. If you see boys coming this way, be as still 
as a mouse. If boys find this nest, they will never 
stop until they have carried all of you away.” 

“All right, Mother, we’ll be good,” we always 
replied. We tried to mind Mother Crow, too, for 
we knew she was as smart as she was black. Of 
Father Crow I don’t remember much, except that 
he was very handsome, with his black coat glis¬ 
tening in the sunlight. Mother provided most of 
the food we had to eat, though occasionally 
Father Crow would come with a fat field mouse 
or a small fish. I remember Mother’s saying that 
Father was an expert fisherman, but a trifle 
“no-’count.” But we were a very happy family, 
if Mother did provide most of the living. 

One day, while Mother was away, we children 
heard a dreadful, loud noise in a cornfield near 
by. We wondered what it could be. After a 



“Mother was kept busy providing us with food” 


















































10 BLACKY DAW 

while Mother Crow came home. This time she 
had nothing in her beak. 

“Hush, hush, children !” she said and crawled 
into the nest, hovering us with her wings. We 
could feel her heart beating. Surely something 
had happened. What could it be that had fright¬ 
ened her so? 

After a long time Mother told us that the 
farmer who owned the cornfield also owned a 
dreadful thing called a shotgun. Mother had 
heard him talking one day when she had been in 
the cornfield looking for cutworms. 

“If the crows don’t stay out of my cornfield, I 
will shoot one and hang him on the wire fence as 
a warning to all others,” he said. 

“I don’t want to be that crow,” Mother had 
said to herself. She never went back to that 
cornfield. 

When she told Father about it he just laughed. 

“Saying is one thing; doing is another,” he had 
said, and went daily to the cornfield. 

The noise we had heard was the gun. Father’s 
beautiful black coat was decorating the wire 
fence. A warning, Mother said, to all crows, big 
and little, as to what a man with a gun will do. 


THE STICK NEST 11 

“Always remember,” Mother said, “to stay a 
long way from a gun and from a man.” 

“We will always remember,” we told her. 

We really did intend to obey our mother. The 
next day she was about early, hunting food for 
us four. Sometimes she would only have to go 
a short distance, but other times she would go a 
long way and be gone a long time. It was during 
one of these long absences that we little crows 
thought we would like to crawl out on the limb 
on which our nest rested. Oh, how fine it would 
seem to stand there and look around! 

But what were those objects coming down the 
pathway by the brook? 


CHAPTER II 


STOLEN 

T HERE were three of them. We knew at a 
glance they were the very things of which 
our Crow Mother had warned us. Their clothes 
were the regulation uniform of the small boy— 
gingham shirt and blue overalls. They ambled 
along, in the aimless fashion of one who is going 
nowhere in particular and has all day in which 
to get there. 

My heart almost stopped beating, I was so 
frightened. Mother Crow had hidden the old 
stick nest away from prying eyes, but we had 
disobeyed her and left the nest. Now we sat in a 
row in plain sight of the woodland path. Our only 
hope lay in keeping so still that the boys would 
not see us. Our wild instinct told us that much, 
at least. But I reasoned without my small 
brother. When he saw those dreadful boys he 
became very much frightened. He crowded so 
closely against me that I almost fell off the limb 
where we were sitting. To keep from falling, 
I had to flap my wings, and I unconsciously 


12 


STOLEN 


13 


uttered a loud “Ah, ah!” which in crow meant, 
“Look out what you are doing.” 

Of course those boys heard me. I might as 
well have cried, “Come on, boys, and get me.” 

They looked up at my cry, and with one accord 
shouted, “Crows’ nest, crows’ nest!” 

They immediately began climbing the tree. 

We had all crept back into the nest by this 
time, heartily wishing we had minded our 
mother. What would those dreadful boys do to 
us? We were all wondering. On, on, they came, 
closer and closer, to the old stick nest. 

At last a grimy hand was thrust in, and fin¬ 
gers closed about me. I did the best I oould; 
I bit that hand with all my might. The boy it 
belonged to let out a howl of rage and called me 
a bad name; but he held on. Biting, flapping 
my wings, scratching with my claws, and “Ah, 
ah-ing!” loudly, 1 was taken from the nest. 

I could not break that boy’s hold, fight as I 
would; his skin must have been tough as raw- 
hide. I cawed loudly for Mother Crow to come 
and help us, but she was far away hunting food 
for us, all unconscious of the terrible fate that 
had overtaken her family. 


14 


BLACKY DAW 


What would they do with us? This was the 
question one of the boys asked. “Now that 
you’ve got it, what are you going to do with 
it?” was what he said. 

By this time each boy had taken a young crow 
and they were all descending. When they 
reached the ground, Jim, the boy who held me, 
replied, “You asked me what I was going to do 
with it? Well, I’ll tell you. I’m goin’ to make a 
talking bird out of mine. Maybe sell him for 
some money when I get him trained.” 

“Crows can’t talk,” said one of the other 
boys. 

“Crows can be taught to talk,” answered 
Jim. “When Dad was a boy he knew some one 
that had a crow that could talk. All you have 
to do is to split their tongues and they can talk 
just like parrots.” 

“How dreadful,” I thought, “to split a bird’s 
tongue! How cruel!” I shuddered at the very 
idea. 

“I don’t believe any such story,” answered the 
boy who held my little brother. 

“Believe it or not, it makes no difference to 
me,” said Jim. “Let’s be going home. It must 


STOLEN 15 

be about supper time. I am as empty as air. 
Swimming makes a fellow hungry.” 

They walked along, each with a crow in his 
arms. The bit of woodland soon ended and they 
crossed a strip of pasture land. Coming to a 
wire fence, they crawled through and came out 
on the highway. 

They ambled along in silence, stopping now 
and then to pick up small stones to throw at 
red-headed woodpeckers on the telephone poles. 
At last one of the boys spoke. 

“Oh, I don’t want this old bird!” he said, and 
threw my poor little sister over the fence into 
the near-by cow pasture. 

Poor little sister! She had never yet used 
her wings for flying, but she instinctively spread 
them and saved herself a hard fall. She was so 
frightened that she “Ah, ah-ed!” piteously as she 
fell to the ground. A flock of crows in a field 
near by took up the refrain and cawed excitedly. 

“I don’t want mine, either,” said the other 
boy, and he threw my little brother over the 
pasture fence. 

I felt very unhappy, and wondered what was 
in store for me. Of one thing I felt certain. I 


16 


BLACKY DAW 


had seen the last of the old stick nest, my 
brothers and sisters and good old Mother Crow. 
Poor little me! Had I been human, I would have 
wept. It would be by the merest chance that I 
would ever see them again. In my heart I bade 
them all a sad farewell. 

The boys followed the path, saying little. The 
wire fence was passed, and tall osage trees now 
lined the road on either side. Soon we came 
to a gate in the hedge. Two boys were at the 
gate, trying to make two cows pass through it, 
and still to keep other cattle in the pasture. 
With much loud “heying” from the boys the two 
cows elected to pass. They .went through the 
gate, and it was closed. 

Then, and not until then, did the boys ex¬ 
change greetings. The boys I was with hailed 
the others as “Toughie” and “Pete.” 

From their greetings I somehow gained the 
impression that Toughie was held in high regard 
by his friends, though I failed to see why.- He 
was small and rather thickset. He had a funny 
little pug nose, merry brown eyes, and tufts of 
yellow hair showed through the holes in his bat¬ 
tered straw hat. His clothes were in tatters, his 


STOLEN 


17 


little fists were hard and his neck was short. 
One thing I noticed was that no one disputed 
with him. 

His companion was as nearly his opposite as 
you can imagine. He was tall and slender, well 
dressed and clean, quiet in speech and manner. 

What the other boys thought of him I could not 
tell, but in Toughie’s presence, at least, they gave 
him the same deference they gave to Toughie. 

“What have you there?” Toughie asked, as 
they finished closing the gate. 

“Baby crow,” Jim replied. “What’ll you 
give for him?” 

“Nothing at all,” the other replied. “What 
do I want with a crow?” 

“Make a talking bird out of him,” said Jim. 
“Teach him to talk like a parrot.” 

“You can’t fool me,” argued Toughie. “Crows 
can’t talk.” 

“Well, that’s what most folks say,” Jim con¬ 
tinued, “but I happen to know different. You 
can just ask my dad, if you don’t believe me.” 

“Well, I don’t believe you,” said Toughie, “and 
another thing, you can’t sell him to me, because I 
don’t want a crow.” 


18 


BLACKY DAW 


This would have ended the matter if the boy 
called Pete hadn’t at this moment spoken. 

“Just how much do you want for your crow?” 
he asked. 

“A dollar,” said Jim, with a hopeful look at 
Pete. “I think that would be only a fair price.” 

“A dollar, indeed!” Toughie spoke in a 
scornful way. “Now, just understand this right 
now: no one cheats Pete while I am around.” 

“Now, you keep out, Toughie, when Pete 
and Jim are trying to make a deal,” said the 
boy that was with Jim. 

Toughie doubled up his fists and gave the 
speaker a look which silenced him immediately. 

“Deal with Pete if you want to, but see that 
you deal fairly,” said Toughie. 

The bargaining began and lasted for some 
time, while the two cows, Boss and Daisy, 
munched tender grass at the roadside. At last 
a bargain was struck. Pete was to pay Jim ten 
cents in cash and give him an old bicycle tire for 
me, providing Pete’s mother could be persuaded 
to give Pete the necessary ten cents. 

As soon as an agreement was reached, old Boss 
and Daisy were hurried along to their respective 



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20 


BLACKY DAW 


cowsheds. When they had been properly dis¬ 
posed of, the boys went in a body to the home of 
Pete to see if the terms of the contract could be 
carried out. 

“Mom, come here!” Pete called through the 
kitchen door. “Just see what I can buy for ten 
cents. Here it is! A real live crow for a pet.” 

“0 son, do you think you want that great, 
ugly bird for a pet?” a voice from inside asked. 

“Sure I want him and what’s more I want you 
to give me the ten cents,” laughed Pete. 

“Oh, I see,” said his mother, coming to the 
door. “I am to produce the cash for the transac¬ 
tion.” 

After much persuading and coaxing, Pete’s 
mother said, “Well, I have heard that crows are 
very intelligent. I suppose you will have to 
have your own way, Pete. One thing, though, you 
must take all the care of him.” 

And so I became the property of Pete and a 
member of Pete’s family. 


CHAPTER III 


MY NEW HOME 

A S soon as the deal was closed, and I was 
* properly turned over to Pete, Jim and his 
friends took their departure. 

I began to look about to see what kind of a 
place I was in. I rather liked the looks of Pete 
and his mother. The other members of the 
family were a father, two sisters and a brother. 
The sisters and brother were small and seemed 
afraid of me, particularly when I opened my 
mouth for food, and flapped my wings at them. 
The “governor,” as Pete called his father, behind 
his. back, just grunted a little when he saw me. 
He didn’t seem to care much about me. He stuck 
his finger out at me when Pete carried me into 
the house for him to see. I reached out and bit 
him to show him there was no love lost. 

“Oh, what a bite!” cried the “governor.” 

Pete laughed and that made his father some¬ 
what cross. 

“Get him out of here, or Pll wring his neck,” 
he said. 


21 


22 


BLACKY DAW 


They didn’t put me in a cage, as I was afraid 
they would. I was given the freedom of the 
place. At first I spent most of my time sitting 
on a fence post, just looking about, getting 
acquainted with everybody and everything. 
From this post I could see everything that went 
on in the back yard, and I could also see up and 
down the street. I was much interested in 
everything that went on in the whole neighbor¬ 
hood. 

Very soon my wings began to grow strong, 
and I could go wherever I pleased. 

The first thing I did was to explore the whole 
place. Remember, I was a crow, and crows have 
a large bump of curiosity. My curiosity some¬ 
times got me into trouble. 

The first thing I examined was an old dish pan 
that was set under the pump. I had seen Pete 
looking intently into it, and I wondered what 
could be so interesting. All I could see when I 
looked in was some small dark objects moving 
about in the water. What they were I found out 
later and relieved my master of the care of them; 
but that is a part of my story that will come by 
and by. I hopped into the pan and had a fine 


MY NEW HOME 


23 


bath. There was so much water in my feathers 
when I got through I could scarcely get out of 
the pan. Pete, seeing my predicament, set me on 
my fence post to dry. I shook and shook myself 
and was soon all right again. 

While I was sitting there I saw a man and a 
woman coming down the street. I heard Pete 
telling Toughie that they were newly married 
and had rented a house in the neighborhood. 

I waited until they were nearly opposite me; 
they hadn’t noticed me sitting on the post, and I 
sounded the alarm. 

“Ah! ah!” I cried. 

They both jumped, and the woman blushed as 
red as a beet. 

The man looked around, scowling, until he 
saw me on the post. He nudged the woman and 
said to her, “That was only a crow. See it, 
there, on the post.” 

Then they both laughed and told Pete they had 
thought some one was making fun of them. 

I liked to sit there on the post and tell the 
family when anyone went by. I always sounded 
the alarm when a strange man, or a new dog 
or cat came into the neighborhood. 


24 


BLACKY DAW 


Another place aroused my curiosity. In the 
back yard was an old chicken house, which had 
been turned over to Pete to use as a pigeon cote. 

As I grew older and stronger I had a great 
desire to visit this place. 

I could see pigeons going in and out, and there 
was a constant cooing. 

I heard Pete and Toughie talking about one 
old Dick Pigeon, as they worked on a new com¬ 
partment for the pigeon cote. From what I 
overheard I gathered that old Dick had been 
having trouble with his wife, Plum Pigeon. It 
seemed she had deserted her husband and babies 
and had set up housekeeping with one Bill 
Pigeon. Faithful old Dick was taking care of 
the two babies, but his mournful cooing was get¬ 
ting on Pete’s nerves. 

“I have a notion to catch her and chop her 
head off,” Pete told Toughie. 

“Why don’t you have your mother make her 
into a pigeon pie?” asked Toughie. 

Toughie was always thinking of something to 
eat. He had no mother, and his father, like old 
Dick, was keeping house and taking care of his 
children. 


MY NEW HOME 


25 


I walked round and round the box the boys 
were working on. The boys drove me away 
when they saw me putting their nails into a 
crack in the well platform. 

“Hey, you, stop that!” Pete said. 

I decided I wasn’t wanted there and flew to 
the door of the pigeon cote and hopped inside. 

Oh, what a nice, interesting place it was! 
The walls were lined with boxes with doors in 
the front. I could see inside of them. In some 
there were old pigeons sitting on the nests; in 
others there were nests with two white eggs in 
them and still others held baby pigeons, some 
feathered and some not. As soon as I had 
stepped inside, the old pigeons had set up an 
excited cooing, but I paid no attention to them. 

I went on peering into different compartments. 
At last I came to an interesting little house that 
held two babies about half grown. I was debat¬ 
ing whether or not to try pigeon brains as food 
when, bam! bam! something struck me, first on 
one side of the head and then on the other. I 
was completely knocked off the little porch on 
which I had been standing, and fell to the floor 
of the pigeon house. 



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“Say, can’t old Dick fight!” said Toughie 






































MY NEW HOME 


27 


Before I had time to recover my senses it was 
after me again, beating me with gray wings and 
pecking me with a sharp beak. I finally got to 
my feet and made for the door as fast as I 
could, with that monster beating me all the way. 
I thought that if I could only reach Pete I would 
be safe; but I couldn’t make it. The thing got 
on my back and was beating me over the head 
with its wings. I didn’t know which way to go. 
I rolled over on my back and clawed the air 
with my feet. 

The commotion had attracted the attention of 
Pete and Toughie and they came running to see 
the fight. They screamed with laughter when 
they saw me claw the air, and counted me out 
while I lay there, as a prize fighter is counted out. 

“Say, can’t old Dick fight!” cried Toughie. 

“He surely can!” replied Pete, “but it’s hardly 
fair to take his spite out on one so young.” 

Old Dick went back to the pigeon house, 
chortling to himself and muttering what he 
would do to me if he ever caught me around his 
house again. I understood what he said, though 
I don’t speak pigeon. But I never gave him the 
chance he was looking for. 


CHAPTER IV 


A NEW NAME 

P to this time I had been given no name. 



I was called “the crow,” or “Pete’s crow.” 
This seemed to worry my master, though it gave 
me no concern. I could worry along, if need be, 
with no other name; but Pete wasn’t satisfied. 

One evening I overheard the family talking 
about it as they sat at the supper table. I was 
walking around in the grass just outside. 

I heard Pete say, “I want to give him a name 
that will be appropriate.” 

“Well,” said his father, “if it is an appropriate 
name you want, you will have to name him for 
some thief. I never saw such a sly, thieving 
imp as he is. The other day, while I was at work 
in the garage, he flew to the work bench where 
I was working and tried to steal the very nails 
I was using. If he were a human, he would be 
a bandit or a highwayman.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” answered Pete. “The 
other day when Toughie and I were greasing 
the wagon wheels, we laid the cotter pins, that 


28 


A NEW NAME 


29 


hold the wheels in place, on the well platform. 
Well, when we got ready to put the wheels on 
again, that crow had carried the cotter pins 
away; we haven’t found them all yet. He had 
hidden some of them in a crack in the well plat¬ 
form. He sure loves to hide things.” 

“You might call him Pat Crow,” said Father. 
“There was once a notorious criminal by that 
name.” 

“Oh, I hardly like that name,” his son replied, 
“though I have to admit it would seem quite 
appropriate.” 

“Why not call him Blacky Daw, after George 
Randolph Chester’s famous character, Blacky 
Daw?” Mother offered. 

“I think I like that name much better,” said 
Pete, and the conversation drifted to other 
things. 

When Pete came out of the house he began 
calling me Blacky Daw, and from that time on I 
was Blacky Daw, or just plain Blacky. As far 
as color was concerned the name fitted me. I 
was black, there was no mistake about that. 
From the tip of my beak to the end of my tail 
I was one solid color; even my toenails were 


30 


BLACKY DAW 


black. You have heard the saying, “black as a 
crow.” Well, I know of nothing any nearer one 
color than a crow. Only when I opened my beak 
could you see that I wasn’t black all the way 
through. 

A few days after I had been named, Pete’s dad 
came home about the middle of the afternoon. 

“What’s the big idea?” shouted Pete, as he 
ran out to the car. 

“I think I’ll lay - off from work this afternoon 
and go fishing,” said his father. 

“Are you going over to Davis City?” asked 
Pete. 

“Yes, I think we will,” answered his father. 
“Willis is going with me.” 

“Dad,” said Pete, in a very earnest and plead¬ 
ing tone, “if there is room in the car, can Toughie 
and I go, too?” 

“Just whatever your mother says about that. 
I don’t care,” said Father. 

“Hooray!” called Pete to Toughie, who for 
once happened to be at his own home across the 
street. “Dad says we can go fishing with him.” 

“Hold on, young man, you haven’t asked your 
mother yet,” said his father. 


A NEW NAME 


31 


: “Oh, I will,” Pete replied, * “but I know she 
"Will let me go.” And running into the house he 
shouted, “Mom! Mom! Dad said he would let me 
go fishing with him if you will just say I can; 
I can, can’t I, Mom?” 

“Why, Pete, tomorrow is Sunday. What shall 
I say to your Sunday-school teacher, if she asks 
me why you are not there?” said Mother. 

Pete’s face took on such a doleful expression 
that his mother had to laugh. 

“Now, Mother,” pleaded Pete, “every time I 
want to do something, it’s Sunday, and I have to 
go to Sunday school instead.” 

“No, Pete,” said his mother, “that isn’t true. 
I don’t want you to feel that way about Sunday 
school; some mothers would not think of letting 
their boys go fishing on Sunday. But you are my 
boy and I do with you as I please. Now, if you 
promise not to ask me again this year, I will let 
you go this time.” 

“Come, Pete!” called his father, “if you are 
going, help me get ready.” 

I was much interested in the preparations. A 
lot of stuff I had never seen before was brought 
out of the house and laid on the grass. I exam- 







mm. 






“What a fine place to put things!” 





























A NEW NAME 


33 


ined each article as it was put there. There was 
a nice, shiny lantern, and a net with large corks 
on one side and small leads on the other. I heard 
Pete’s dad say they would use minnows for bait, 
whatever that meant. 

I tried to pull the leads off the net, but they 
were fastened on too tightly for me. 

Then they brought out several rolls of strong 
cord, with hooks fastened to the ends of the cord. 
I tried to pull some of the hooks off, but couldn’t. 

A large stone jug was the next thing they 
carried out. I tried the cork and found it was 
loose; I pulled the cork out and looked down into 
the jug. “My,” I thought, “what a fine place to 
put things!” 

I looked about for something to put into the 
jug. A cinder path led to where the car stood. 

“The very thing,” I said to myself, and began 
to drop cinders into the jug. I was having a 
good time when Pete’s dad saw me. 

“Here, you Blacky Daw!” he cried and threw 
a stick at me. “Stop that, or I will wring your 
neck.” 

I dodged the stick and flew to the limb in the 
old pine tree where I sat until they drove away. 


CHAPTER V 


A TASTE OF FISH 

I T was rather lonesome after Pete and Toughie 
left. The little brother was there and rode 
his tricycle up and down the sidewalk, but he 
was no company for me, not like Pete and 
Toughie. Oh, my, no ! Whenever they were in 
the yard I was right with them, interested in 
everything they did. 

The next day was Sunday. Mother took the 
children and went to Sunday school. I was 
dreadfully lonesome while they were gone. It 
seemed that every one else was gone from the 
neighborhood, too. The fat neighbor came out of 
her house, dressed in a bright blue dress with 
ruffles, got into her car and went to church. 

Little Brother cried because he had to walk. 
He was used to being taken to church in the car, 
and it made him angry to think he couldn’t ride. 

I put in the time looking about. I visited the 
fat neighbor’s front porch; there were flower 
pots set in a row along the edge. I examined 
these carefully and decided to use one of them 


34 


A TASTE OF FISH 


35 


for my collection. I found the head of an old, 
dead sparrow and put it in there. I knew where 
there was a bit of blue glass and a brass button; 
I hunted these up and deposited them with the 
sparrow’s head. 

There was a cushion on the seat of a rocking 
chair on the porch. I looked this all over to see 
if I could tear it apart, but it was made of good, 
strong cloth, so I gave up trying to see what was 
inside of it. 

After a while Mother and the children came 
home, and things brightened up a bit. 

About the middle of the afternoon the fisher¬ 
men returned. 

Pete’s mother and the fat woman were sitting 
in the yard in the shade of the trees, for the day 
was hot. 

Pete jumped out of the car and ran to where 
his mother and the fat neighbor were sitting. 

“Mom, come and see what we have here,” he 
called to her. 

Pete’s dad was untying a sack from the run¬ 
ning board of the car. The fat neighbor, Mother, 
myself and the children followed Father around 
the house. Father emptied the sack on the 


36 BLACKY DAW 

ground. Several long, slimy things fell out. 

“Didn’t we have good luck!” said Pete’s dad. 
“Just look at this one. I’ll bet he weighs three 
pounds, and these two close to two and a half 
each; all channel cats, too. Say, but the fish 
were biting fine! I almost hated to come away 
when we did.” 

“Yes, you certainly had good luck this time,” 
replied his wife. “This will make up for some 
of the times you have gone and caught nothing 
at all. But who is to clean the slimy things? 
That is usually my job, but I draw the line at 
doing it Sunday afternoon.” 

“Nobody’s asking you to clean the fish on 
Sunday afternoon. I’ll do it myself,” said 
Father. “Get me the whetstone, Pete,” and, going 
into the garage, Father came back with a clean 
board in his hand. 

Father spent some little time getting his 
knife ready. He sharpened and sharpened, until 
his knife would cut like a razor, almost. Then, 
with Pete’s help, he proceeded to skin the fish. 

I wanted to help, too, but was brushed aside. 

It was when the head was cut off that I got 
my first taste of fish. 


A TASTE OF FISH 


37 


How delicious it was! I thought I had never 
tasted anything so good in all my life. Only one 
other thing had I tasted that was half so good, 
that was cheese. How I do like cheese! 

When Pete looked around and saw me, he tried 
to take the fish head away from me; he was 
afraid I would get a fish bone in my throat and 
choke to death. But I held on and cawed loudly 
at him. 

Pete and his dad thought this very funny, and 
both laughed at me. 

“Let him alone,” said Pete’s dad. “Can’t you 
see he is very fond of raw fish? Lend a hand 
here and let’s get this job done. I am hungry 
and tired.” 

After they were through with the fish Pete’s 
dad buried all the fish heads, but I had had all 
I wanted to eat. 

After the fish were dressed, Pete washed his 
hands and went out to where his mother was 
sitting with the fat neighbor. 

“Well, Pete, what kind of a time did you 
have?” asked the fat neighbor. 

“Oh, pretty good,” answered Pete, “only I got 
rather tired. Toughie and I lay down on the 


38 BLACKY DAW 

car seats and we slept most of the night.” 

“Pete,” said his mother, rising, “I think you 
had best come into the house and I will get out 
something for you to eat. And then you can lie 
down and take a nap, if you are tired. You could 
not rest very well on the car seats, of course.” 

The next day I made a discovery. The small 
objects in the pan under the pump were fish. 
While I was sitting on the edge of the pan 
helping myself to Pete’s minnows, Pete himself 
came out of the house carrying a big glass bowl. 
He emptied the bowl into the old dish pan, and 
my attention was attracted to a bright object 
that came out of the bowl and swam around in 
the pan. 

My curiosity was aroused at once; I reached 
down and caught it in my beak. Pete made a 
grab for me, but I was too quick for him; I flew 
to the top of the house with Pete’s goldfish in my 
beak. Pete let out a scream of rage and ran 
into the house for his mother. 

His mother came out with a piece of cheese in 
her hand and called to me— 

“Here, Blacky, here, Blacky!” she said, and 
one calling was enough. 






i§§§ 






“I flew to the top of the house with Pete’s goldfish” 



































































































































40 


BLACKY DAW 


As soon as I saw the cheese I let go the fish 
and flew down to get the cheese. The poor little 
fish fell from the top of the house to the ground. 
Pete ran to where it lay and picked it up and 
put it in the old dish pan, but it turned over 
on one side. I guessed it was quite dead. 


CHAPTER VI 


FATHER’S KEYS 

W HEN Pete found out that all his minnows 
were gone from out the old dish pan he 
was so angry that he seemed almost ready to kill 
me. He doubled up his fists and swung his arms 
in a threatening manner and jumped up and 
down in a way that frightened me. 

“You black rascal,” he said, “you ate them all; 
you did it just for meanness. You have plenty 
to eat without eating my fish.” 

“Ah! ah!” I said, by which I meant “I’m 
sorry;” and I was sorry, too. But if Pete could 
have known just how good those fish tasted to 
me, I don’t think he would have been so hard on 
me. Pete was always pretty good to me. 

The incident of the fish was soon forgotten. 
I was accused of something much worse than 
eating Pete’s minnows. 

Pete’s father had lost his keys, and he accused 
me of finding them and hiding them. It seemed 
that the blame for everything fell on me. The 
last time the governor could remember having 


41 


42 


BLACKY DAW 


them was the day he cleaned the fish, on the 
platform of the well. He could remember taking 
them out of his pocket when he took out his 
knife; he couldn’t remember putting them back. 
He thought they were left on the well platform. 
He just knew “that rascally crow” had picked 
them up and hidden them, goodness knows where. 

“Pete, I have a good notion to wring his neck,” 
I heard him say. 

That was what he was always going to do 
when he was angry with me. His threats didn’t 
seem to scare Pete at all, but they scared 
me. I flew to the limb of the old pine tree and 
there I sat while the family hunted. The whole 
place was searched, all the unlikely places and 
most of the likely ones were carefully looked into. 

Pete, at his father’s request, got out the lawn 
mower and mowed most of the yard. He got 
down on his hands and knees and looked in the 
grass around the well, but no keys were to be 
found. Pete’s dad stormed, his mother looked 
worried, and Pete looked very unhappy. Alto¬ 
gether it was a dreadful day. 

The fat neighbor came out of her house and 
wanted to know what the trouble was. I heard 



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“Here are your 


father’s keys,” 


she said 










































































44 BLACKY DAW 

Pete say, “We are afraid Blacky has hidden 
Dad’s keys.” 

“Well, that’s too bad,” she said, “but Blacky 
is a rascal and he certainly loves to hide things.” 

There it went again, “Blacky is a rascal.” 
My, how sick I was getting of that word rascal! 
Named for a rascal, and everything I did was 
rascally. 

After a while, to the relief of everybody, Pete’s 
dad got into his car and went to town. 

I overheard him telling Pete’s mother, before 
he left, that he could get into his office, but that 
he couldn’t get into the vault and get his books. 

Pete and his mother continued the search for 
a while after he left. Some boys came to play 
with Pete, and his mother went about her work 
and the search was abandoned. 

Pete and his friends went swimming and 
didn’t come home till late afternoon. After he 
had been home a while, I heard the fat neighbor 
calling him. I went to see what she wanted with 
Pete. 

Pete came running. 

In her hand she held that precious, shiny, 
jingling object I had found and so carefully hid- 


FATHER’S KEYS 


45 


den with the rest of my collection. That woman 
had found my treasures and was now holding out 
to Pete the prize of my collection. 

“Here are your father’s keys,” she said. “I 
found them in my geranium pot on the front 
porch. If you lose anything else, it might be well 
to look there fo!r it. Blacky has put a lot of staff 
there,” and she laughed heartily as she said it. 

So that was what all the trouble was about— 
that shiny, jingling object was the bunch of keys 
Pete’s dad had made so much fuss about, and I 
was the guilty one after all. Well, well, there 
was nothing I could do about it now. 

Pete’s mother heard the fat neighbor and 
Pete talking and she came out of the house and 
told Pete to take the keys and go to town and 
give them to his father. 

“He can’t get into the vault and he might need 
to,” she said. “You may stay and ride home with 
him, if you want to.” 

I set about looking for a new hiding-place for 
my collection. Before Pete and his dad came to 
supper I had moved it to the hole in the dead 
limb of the old apple tree, where the chickadee 
had left her nest. 


CHAPTER VII 

THE KINGBIRD AND THE ORIOLES 


I DON’T know why it was so, but all the birds 
seemed to look upon me as their deadly 
enemy. Without exception they would make a 
terrible fuss whenever they saw me. 

The pigeons hated me like poison. I never 
went about the pigeon house after the time old 
Dick gave me such an awful whipping. I didn’t 
relish the idea of a second encounter with him. 

One day, when I was peaceably walking about, 
minding my own business, I was attacked by 
three orioles. Two of them were orchard orioles 
and one was a Baltimore oriole. They made such 
a fuss that the family heard them and came to 
see what the trouble was about. Then they all 
just stood there and laughed at me, because I 
was so helpless. 

I simply could not defend myself against those 
little pests. They were so much smaller than I, 
and so much quicker on the wing, that I just had 
to stand there on the ground and take their pun¬ 
ishment, much as I hated it. The three took turns 


46 



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Hi; 



One day I was attacked by three orioles 





























































48 


BLACKY DAW 


darting down at me, pecking me and flying back 
to the old plum tree. I couldn’t recover from 
the attack of one before another was at me, 
beating me with its wings, pecking me, and all 
the time keeping up the angry, piercing cries that 
had attracted the family’s attention. 

It was funny to the folks, but most em¬ 
barrassing to me. I wished I was almost any¬ 
where else than where I was. I watched my 
chance and ran under the well platform. This 
made the folks laugh harder than ever, but I 
didn’t care. All I wanted was to get away 
from those frightful little pests. I stayed under 
the platform until I was pretty sure they were 
gone away. 

The Baltimore oriole had a nest in an old elm 
tree, down the street a little way. That nest was 
built out on the very end of a limb where I 
couldn’t get at it, or I would have tried to even 
scores with him. I would have found out how 
young oriole tasted. The oriole knows what he 
is doing when he builds his nest as he does. 

I had another encounter with a small bird 
about that time, that made the fat neighbor 
laugh at me again. 


THE KINGBIRD AND THE ORIOLES 49 


One day, when I was flying around, not doing 
any harm, a kingbird got after me. Now, if 
you know anything about a kingbird, or bee 
martin, as this bird is sometimes called, you know 
that he is a great fighter and crows seem 
to be his especial abomination. This kingbird 
seemed to be angry with me for some reason. 
I headed for the house as fast as my wings 
could carry me, hunting for a place to hide. 

Now, you no doubt know that a kingbird can 
fly much faster than a crow, and this one flew 
around and around me, all the time uttering 
a sharp, angry cry. 

I circled around the house twice, “Ah! ah-ing!” 
for Pete to come and help me. The second time 
I came around the house, I saw the fat neigh¬ 
bor sitting in a rocking-chair on her front porch, 
fanning herself with a large palm-leaf fan. I 
knew she was my friend and would help me. 
I alighted on the porch and scurried under her 
chair. 

I know that kingbird is still wondering what 
became of me. He could never dream of a crow 
taking refuge with a human being. How the 
fat lady laughs every time she thinks of it! 


CHAPTER VIII 


GREEN CORN 

T HAT fat neighbor and I became fast friends. 

I used to visit her every time I saw her in 
her garden, or sitting on her porch in her rock¬ 
ing-chair. She would talk to me as though I 
were a human being. I liked her very much. 

When she worked in her garden, I followed 
her around, and begged for the nice, fat angle- 
worms she would uncover with her hoe. I also 
had a fondness for cutworms. She was never 
too busy to stop and point them out to me. I 
always thanked her by saying, “Ah! ah!” in a 
way which was crow for “Thank you.” 

She had a wonderful garden. Everything grew 
in nice, straight rows. There were vegetables of 
all kinds, and she had flowers planted among the 
vegetables, which made it very attractive to me. 

As summer wore on, the garden blossomed 
with the colors of the rainbow. You know crows 
are very fond of color. I spent much time in 
the garden, just walking about looking at every¬ 
thing, and seeing what I could see. 


50 



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WV.’....* 

s///SS//s m - 


I was very fond of corn 













































































52 


BLACKY DAW 


When she gathered her peas I was right on 
hand to help, and I would help her shell them. 
I always enjoyed this very much. I liked to 
watch her open the pods and take out the little, 
round, green balls. Sometimes she would open 
a pod and hold it out for me to see. I would 
look at it, with my head first on one side and 
then on the other, say “Ah!” and carefully select 
a little, round ball. I would hold the peas in 
my mouth until I had a mouthful, then I would 
fly away, and hide them somewhere and come 
back for more. Often I would have to change 
my hiding place several times before I would be 
satisfied that I had found a safe place. 

“Mrs. White, I can always tell when you are 
going to have roasting ears for dinner,” Pete’s 
mother laughingly told her fat neighbor one 
day. 

“How can you tell?” asked Mrs. White. 

“By the noise I hear Blacky Daw making in 
your garden,” answered Pete’s mother. 

“Well, that’s pretty good,” replied Mrs. White. 
“You know Blacky Daw and I are great friends 
and he wouldn’t miss helping me gather my corn 
for anything.” 


GREEN CORN 53 

“I would call it more of a hindrance than a 
help,” said Mother. 

But what Mother had said was true. I did 
follow Mrs. White about as she gathered her 
green corn, “Ah! ah-ing!” every step we took. 

I was very fond of green corn, and in the top 
of almost every ear there was a nice, fat, green 
worm. 

After the fat neighbor had gathered her apron 
full of ears of corn she would go to the bench 
by the smokehouse, and sit down. I always 
hopped to the bench beside her. As she opened 
the ears I “Ah! ah-ed!” loudly for the green 
worm I was sure to get. 

The children thought this a very funny per¬ 
formance, and we usually had an audience. 

Pete’s mother said, “Mrs. White is certainly 
very patient with Blacky Daw. I look upon him 
as something of a nuisance.” 


CHAPTER IX 


WASH DAY 

A S summer wore on, and I became better ac¬ 
quainted with the family, every day brought 
new pleasures to me. The different members 
of the family did so many interesting things, 
and my curiosity was aroused in so many 
different ways so many times, that life at Pete’s 
house was very pleasant indeed. I wouldn’t 
have traded places with any crow in the world. 

As I have already said, I sometimes got into 
trouble by being too inquisitive, and perhaps I 
was a nuisance, as Pete’s mother called me. 

There was one day in the week that was 
always my delight. That day always started 
early, with a lot of pumping of water. There 
was a lot of going in and out of the back door; 
and then the washer would start with a brisk, 
busy sound that I loved. Pete always stayed 
around to be near if he was needed; this always 
pleased me, because on other days he sometimes 
went to other boys’ houses to play. 

One Monday morning in particular the wash- 


54 


WASH DAY 


55 


er was started early and everything seemed to 
be going well, when all of a sudden that washer 
stopped, for no cause that I could see. I could 
hear Pete’s mother scolding, and if I had been as 
wise as some folks think I am, I would have 
gone to the top of the pine tree and stayed there 
the rest of the day. 

Instead I stayed around waiting to see what 
would happen; pretty soon I heard Pete’s mother 
calling Pete’s dad on the ’phone; she said a 
belt, or something, had broken on the washer, 
and would he please come home and fix it. I 
knew she was out of sorts, by the tone of her 
voice. I could always tell by Mother’s voice just 
what to expect. If she spoke in a low, quiet 
voice, she would be very kind to you; but if 
her voice was high and loud it was better to 
stay away until she calmed down. Most of the 
time she was in a good humor, but once in a 
while, when anything went wrong, she made 
things hum for a while. 

After a while Pete’s dad came home, and I 
could hear him tinkering around in the kitchen. 
By and by the washer started again and Pete’s 
dad came out of the house and went to town. 


56 


BLACKY DAW 


There was a lot of high-pitched talk in the 
kitchen, and I noticed that Pete and Toughie 
stayed in the back yard by the pigeon house. 

Mother came out of the house with a big 
basket of clothes, set them down and began to 
wipe off the clothesline. I walked over to where 
the basket sat, jumped in and began walking 
about on the nice, clean clothes. I saw some 
shiny pearl buttons sticking out and tried to pull 
them off. 

It made no difference to me that my feet left 
tracks on the snow-white clothes. At first Mother 
didn’t see me, but just went on wiping off the 
line. When she finished with the line, she turned 
to the basket and saw me in it. 

“Here, you!” she said. “Get right out of 
there!” Reaching in she caught me by the neck 
and threw me as far as she could. I wasn’t 
hurt, but I was rather taken back, because Pete 
and Toughie saw the encounter and both of them 
laughed at me. 

“Now all those clothes will have to be rinsed 
over again,” said Pete’s mother, “and all because 
of that crow. It’s enough to make anybody cross, 
I do declare. It seems as though everything has 









EftQTTTTrr 




Whenever I found a loose pin, I pulled it off 


























































58 


BLACKY DAW 


gone wrong today,” and picking up the basket 
she went into the house. 

“Got yourself into trouble, didn’t you?” said 
Pete to me as I came up to where he and Toughie 
were sitting on the well platform. “Maybe you 
will learn after while to stay where you belong.” 

Mother came out of the house again carrying 
the clothes basket and proceeded to hang the 
clothes on the line. 

I waited until she had finished and had gone 
back into the house before I went near the 
clothesline. When the screen door had slammed 
behind her, I flew to the line and walked along, 
trying all the clothespins. Whenever I found a 
loose pin, I pulled it off and dropped it on the 
ground; sometimes I let the clothes down on one 
side and sometimes they fell to the ground. I 
was having lots of fun balancing myself on the 
line, when Pete’s mother came out of the house 
and saw me. When she saw those clothes lying 
there on the grass, she almost screamed, she was 
so angry. 

“Now, Pete,” she said, “this thing has gone 
far enough; my patience is just about gone. 
You will have to shut that bird up in the old 


WASH DAY 59 

squirrel cage until these clothes are hung out, 
dried and brought in.” 

“Why, Mom,” argued her son, “I can’t catch 
him.” 

“Go in to the house and get a piece of cheese,” 
ordered his mother. “You know you can get 
him into the squirrel cage with that.” 

Without further argument Pete did as his 
mother told him to do. 

When I saw what he held in his hand I came 
running to get that tempting, yellow morsel, 
“Ah! ah-ing,” loudly. 

The rest of that long summer day I spent 
behind bars. 


CHAPTER X 


THE PARTY 

T HE summer days came and went in swift 
succession. The longest days of the year 
had come and gone and now the hot weather of 
July was upon us. 

I heard Pete and Toughie planning for a cele¬ 
bration of some kind, that was to be held on a 
day called the Fourth. Pete seemed to be count¬ 
ing the days. I heard them each day checking 
off a day. My curiosity was aroused; I won¬ 
dered what it was all about. 

On the day before the fourth, Pete came out 
of the house carrying a large bucket with a 
handle on one side. He set it down in the shade 
under the plum tree. Pretty soon the ice wagon 
stopped, and the iceman came around the house 
carrying a large piece of ice in his tongs. 

“Where does your mother want the ice?” 
he asked Pete. 

“Over here by the freezer,” answered Pete. 
“We are going to use it right away.” 

When the iceman had gone Pete began to 


60 


THE PARTY 


61 


break the ice up into small pieces and to put 
the pieces into the bucket that had the handle 
on the side. While he was at work Toughie came 
in sight around the house. 

“What you doing, Pete?” he asked. 

“We are going to freeze some ice cream,” 
Pete answered. “Today is my sister’s birthday, 
and she is going to have a party. Do you hear 
Mom beating eggs?” 

The boys listened and the sound of the egg- 
beater could be heard in the kitchen. 

“Well, she is making cake, angel-food cake, 
with pink frosting, and the ice cream is to be 
crushed strawberry.” 

A hungry, wistful look came into the eyes 
of Toughie. 

“Say, Pete, it must be nice to have a mom 
and birthday parties,” he said. 

“Well, yes, it is rather nice,” Pete replied. 
“I’m fond of angel-food cake myself. I’ll tell 
you what we will do; you help me with the freez¬ 
ing of this ice cream and I’ll see if I can’t get 
Mother to let you come to the party.” 

“It’s a go,” said Toughie, “for that I’ll help,” 
and he began to roll up his sleeves. 


62 


BLACKY DAW 


Of course I helped with the ice cream freez¬ 
ing all I could, too. The boys had a lot of fun 
with me when I tasted the salt, and they 
laughed because I didn’t seem to know what the 
ice was. You must remember I was a young 
crow and had never seen a winter yet. 

There were other preparations besides the 
fixing of the ice cream. Rugs were brought 
out of the house and laid on the grass under 
the old apple tree. Chairs and cushions were 
also brought out and placed in the shade. 

On one of her trips out of the house I heard 
Pete’s mother giving Pete and Toughie instruc¬ 
tions how they were to act at the party. 

“Now, boys,” she said, “do behave yourselves, 
and don’t let’s have any trouble this afternoon. 
There is only one little .girl coming that I have 
any doubts about. Whatever you do, don’t get 
into trouble with Elizabeth Smith.” 

Vis that little imp invited to the party?” asked 
Pete. “She is always trying to make trouble. 
I don’t see why you had to go and ask her; 
she will just spoil everything.” 

“Well,” answered his mother, “I couldn’t very 
well leave her out. All the little girls in Louise’s 


THE PARTY 


63 


room are invited, and another thing, you know, 
Mrs. Smith and I are very good friends. Never¬ 
theless, I am aware of the fact that Elizabeth 
is an extremely difficult child to get along with. 
Now, try to have no trouble with her.” 

“All right, Mom, we will do the best we can,” 
said Pete. “But all the same, she would better 
let me and Toughie alone.” 

Toughie was the first guest to arrive at the 
party. He came shortly after dinner. He was 
so dressed up that I didn’t know him. As he 
came around the corner of the house I thought 
he was a stranger and began to caw at him. 
Pete heard me and came out of the house to 
see what I was cawing about. 

“I guess Blacky didn’t know me,” said 
Toughie. 

“Well, no wonder,” said Pete, “you must be 
setting out to make a hit with one of the little 
girls.” 

“Not exactly,” said his friend, “but I don’t 
often dress up, for the reason that I feel much 
better the other way.” 

This statement I believed, for Toughie looked 
awkward and uncomfortable in his good clothes. 


64 


BLACKY DAW 


The guests began to arrive about the middle 
of the afternoon. Some came in cars and some 
walked, pushing perambulators in which were 
big dolls. All were dressed in pretty, light 
clothes. 

I greeted each guest, and looked the dolls and 
perambulators over carefully. It began to ap¬ 
pear as though we were going to have a dandy 
good time. I was very happy indeed. Little 
sister noticed this and said, “Blacky thinks 
this is his party instead of mine. ,, 

I noticed one little girl in particular. She 
had black eyes and shiny, black hair. She had 
also a bold, hard look about her that I didn’t 
like at all. The children all called her Elizabeth, 
and I knew she must be the one about whom 
Mother had talked to the boys. She tossed her 
head when she saw Pete and Toughie. She tried 
to tease me by poking me with a stick, until 
Pete told her to let me alone. I took a dislike 
to her at once. 

There was a good deal of laughter and noise 
and the children ran around the yard playing- 
games. Some of the little ones sat around in 
chairs and played with their dolls. 


THE PARTY 


65 


After a while they played a game called “Drop 
the handkerchief.” I got in the middle of the 
circle and had a great time walking around try¬ 
ing to get the handkerchief myself. At last 
I saw my chance. The handkerchief was dropped 
near me, and the little girl, behind whom it 
was dropped, hadn’t seen it yet. I flew around 
her, grabbed the handkerchief and flew to a 
high limb in the old apple tree. 

“Here, you, Blacky, come back with that 
handkerchief!” Pete called to me, but I paid 
no attention to him. 

Pete ran into the house and qg,me out in a 
minute carrying a piece of cheese in his hand. 
I dropped that handkerchief at once and flew 
down for the cheese. The handkerchief stayed 
in the tree top, and Pete had to go to the 
garage and get his father’s bamboo fish pole 
to get the handkerchief down before the game 
could go on again. 

They played a while longer and then Mother 
came out of the house and told them all to be 
seated on the grass, for she was going to serve 
the refreshments. 

Mother and Mrs. White came out of the 


66 


BLACKY DAW 


house carrying plates with slices of cake on them. 
They were just starting to serve the ice cream 
when the awful thing happened. I had been 
walking around behind the children, and I came 
up behind that girl Elizabeth, who had teased me 
with a stick. She happened to be sitting next 
to Toughie at the time. Well, you know I didn’t 
like her, so I reached over and gave her as hard 
a pinch as I could. 

She never looked around to see who had done 
the pinching, she just took it for granted that 
Toughie was the guilty one. Jumping up, she 
began raining blows on Toughie’s head. At 
first Toughie was too astonished to move, then 
he jumped up and gave her a mighty push that 
sent her tumbling heels over head among the 
children that were seated on the grass. 

There was screaming and the cracking of 
dishes, and I “Ah! ah-ed!” loudly, for I was much 
pleased with the situation. 

Somebody said, “Hey, there, Jitney Bus, look 
what you are doing.” 

Elizabeth had been angry before but now she 
was furious; she hated to be called “Jitney Bus.” 
It was a name they had given her at school. 


THE PARTY 


67 


Her name had been changed from Elizabeth to 
Elizabus, then to Jitney Bus. I didn't blame 
her for being angry. Well, angry she was 
and no mistake. Little Brother had a small, 
red chair of which he thought a great deal. He 
called it his standing chair, because he used it 
to stand on when he wasn’t tall enough to reach 
what he wanted. This little chair had been 
brought out of the house for the party. Eliza¬ 
beth scrambled to her feet and looked about 
for something to hit Toughie with. Her eye fell 
on the little red chair. Quick as a flash she 
grabbed it and swung it over her head and 
brought it down on Toughie’s head with a sound¬ 
ing whack. One of the rounds was broken in 
the contact. 

Now Pete’s little brother could yell louder 
than any other child in the whole neighborhood, 
and when he saw what had happened to his 
chair he threw back his head, opened his mouth 
and let out a loud roar. 

“My 1 standing chair! My standing chair!” he 
cried. 

Just at that moment Pete’s mother came out 
of the house with a tray full of sherbet glasses 


68 


BLACKY DAW 


of ice cream. She was so surprised that she 
almost let the tray fall. 

“Why, children, what on earth does this 
mean?” she asked. “Elizabeth, put down that 
chair this minute.” 

“Mrs. Walker, you just wait till you know 
what he did,” cried Elizabeth excitedly. “He 
pinched me right there,” indicating the place 
with her hand. 

“Mrs. Walker,” begged Toughie, “honest and 
truly, I hope to drop dead if I am not telling 
the truth, what she says is a lie made up out 
of whole cloth. I never pinched her. I never 
thought of pinching anybody.” 

“You did, too!” stoutly affirmed the little 
girl. 

“I didn’t,” said Toughie. “You just ask some 
of the other kids. They will tell you I didn’t.” 

The other children, when referred to, did not 
seem to know much about it, until one little 
girl spoke up and said, “It was Blacky Daw 
that bit her. I was looking right at him and 
saw him slip up behind Elizabeth and bite her. 
She thought Toughie did it, that’s all.” 

“Well, children,” said Pete’s mother, “all get 



■ — 








- ■ 


I stuck my beak in his ice cream 


















70 


BLACKY DAW 


seated now. Here is your ice cream. Pete, you 
and Toughie may have yours on the front porch, 
if you like.” 

“Yes, Mom, we would rather eat there,” Pete 
said. “We have had enough of kids’ parties for 
one day.” 

I walked among the children as Mother served 
them. When I got near Little Brother I reached 
over and stuck my beak in his ice cream; I 
wanted to see what it tasted like. I couldn’t see 
what there was about ice cream for people to 
make so much fuss over. It was kind of sick- 
eningly sweet and I didn’t like it one bit. Neither 
did Little Brother like to have me eating out 
of his dish. He threw back his head and opened 
his mouth to yell, but Sister, knowing what 
was coming, ran into the house and returned 
with another dish for him. Then he quieted down. 

After they had finished eating they played 
a little longer; then they all went home, after 
wishing Little Sister many happy returns of 
the day. 


CHAPTER XI 


FOURTH OF JULY 

T HE next day was the Fourth of July. It 
was the first one of the kind I had ever 
seen, and if I live to be a very old crow I hope 
I may never see another just like that one. 

The day began very early, with a lot of noise 
in the direction of town. This noise made me 
very sad, for it reminded me of the time when 
Mother Crow had told us that Father Crow 
would never come back to us. 

When Pete had had his breakfast, he and 
Toughie sat out by the well platform and shot 
off a lot of things they called firecrackers. The 
shooting scared me and I went to the top of 
the old pine tree, and stayed until they left 
for town. 

I could hear the band playing, and boys shout¬ 
ing; but all pleasure was taken out of the day 
for me by the dreadful boom, booming that went 
on all the time. I felt sure that it was the guns 
that Mother Crow had warned us about. 

After breakfast Father took Little Brother 


71 


72 


BLACKY DAW 


up town with him, in the car. When they came 
home Little Brother had a beautiful red balloon 
fastened to a string. I could tell by the way 
he walked that he was proud of it. 

I really meant no harm when I took that 
string out of his hand, but you could tell by the 
way he yelled that he thought I was trying to 
murder him. He made so much noise that his 
father and mother both came out of the house 
to see what the trouble was, and I flew to my 
limb in the pine tree to get away from the noise. 
When Father and Mother saw me with that 
string in my mouth they both thought it was 
funny and laughed. 

‘Til get him to come down,” said Mother, 
and she went into the house for cheese. 

When I' saw the cheese I opened my beak 
to say “Ah,” and when I opened my beak, away 
went the balloon. Little Brother shrieked at 
the top of his voice when he saw his balloon 
sailing away in the sky. Father and Mother 
were powerless to stop Little Brother’s crying. 
They tried everything, money, candy, fire¬ 
crackers, ice cream; but Little Brother wouldn’t 
be comforted. 



I really meant no harm when I took that string 


% 
























































74 


BLACKY DAW 


At last Father got into his car and took 
Little Brother to town and bought him a new 
balloon. This one only lasted a short time. 
Brother himself accidentally broke it. It went 
off with a terrible bang, and nearly scared me 
out of a year’s growth. The funny thing this 
time was that Brother couldn’t tell what had 
become of his balloon, and kept crying, “Where 
is my balloon? Where is my balloon?” * 

Father thought this was funny at first and 
laughed, but after a while he got tired of it 
and threatened to spank Brother if he didn’t 
keep quiet. 

Along about noon Toughie and Pete came 
home; they brought a lot of firecrackers with 
them, and kept up a constant noise. I had grown 
used to the noise by this time and was not so 
much afraid as I was earlier in the day. I 
didn’t stay in the top of the tree as I had in¬ 
tended, but came down and examined the ends 
of firecrackers that were in the grass. 

Pete and Toughie put firecrackers in cans and 
shot them off. This made a great deal of noise 
and the boys seemed to think they were having a 
fine time. 


FOURTH OF JULY 75 

“Now, I am going to shoot off this great, big 
cannon firecracker.” 

It was Toughie who spoke. 

“Now all of you get out of the way.” 

The smaller children ran for the house. Pete 
and Toughie bent over the firecracker and lit 
it, then they jumped back. The thing sputtered 
and then seemed to go out. 

“Wait a minute, Pete,” said Toughie, as Pete 
started forward. 

Pete hesitated, and as he stood there waiting, 
I flew down and picked up the big red thing 
in my beak. 

“Here, you, Blacky Daw, do you want to get 
your head blown off?” 

It was Pete that spoke. 

With a quick blow he knocked the cracker 
out of my beak. 

Just as it touched the ground it exploded 
with the most dreadful sound I had ever heard 
in all my life. I thought I was a dead bird that 
time for sure. 

I was so stunned I didn’t know anything for 
a few moments. When I came to myself I flew 
to the top of the pine tree, and you can be sure 


76 


BLACKY DAW 


I stayed in the tree that time for the rest 
of the day. Pete and Toughie thought this was 
very funny and tried to coax me to come down, 
but that was once that even cheese wouldn’t bring 
me to the ground. 

The family all went to town that afternoon 
and there was no one about the place but the 
pigeons and me. 

When the family came home to supper it was 
much the same as it had been at noon. 

Pete and Toughie went back to town after 
supper, but the rest of the family stayed at 
home, because the smaller children went to bed 
early. Everything got quiet in the neighborhood, 
but I could still hear that boom, booming up 
town. After I went to bed in the old pine tree, 
and was just settling myself for the night, I was 
awakened by a dreadful roar. It seemed to me 
that a monster made of fire rose from the earth 
and soared right up into the sky, then broke 
with a loud noise and a shower of little hissing 
demons fell to the earth. There were other 
things went up into the sky that night, bright 
lights and balls of fire that frightened me very 
badly. I didn’t sleep much; it was almost morn- 



The firecracker exploded with the most dreadful sound 














78 


BLACKY DAW 


ing before it was all over, and the town got 
quiet so I could sleep. 

I had an exciting time that Fourth of July. 
Pete may like celebrations, but I don’t. The 
next time I think I will go to the woods and 
stay until it is all over. 


CHAPTER XII 


DAD CLEANS HIS CAR 

A S the long summer days wore on, I began 
to hear talk of a trip the family intended to 
take. First it was Pete telling Toughie of the 
wonders of auto camping at the Minnesota 
lakes. The next I heard of it, Pete’s dad was 
talking to a neighbor about overhauling his 
car before he went north on his vacation. 

The neighbor that Pete’s dad was talking to 
was a mechanic who worked in a garage up 
town. He offered to clean Pete’s dad’s car the 
next Saturday afternoon. Now Pete’s dad was 
something of a mechanic himself and he thought, 
by working with his neighbor, the two of them 
could do the work in a short time and save a 
large bill at a garage. So a deal was struck, 
and Saturday afternoon was the time set to do 
the work. 

So, when Saturday afternoon came, Pete’s dad 
changed the usual order of things. He wanted 
to take advantage of this chance to get the car 
overhauled, with the help of his neighbor. In- 


79 


80 


BLACKY DAW 


stead of going to the golf grounds as had been his 
custom for the weekly half holiday, he drove the 
car up the alley and into the back yard. He 
backed the car under the old box elder tree and 
left it there. The day was hot, for it was mid¬ 
summer, and he wanted to work in the shade. 

He went into the house and pretty soon he 
came out dressed in the worst old overalls I had 
ever seen; they were ragged and torn and 
splashed all over with white paint; he had on 
an old, faded shirt, and an eyeshade over his 
head in strips. I purposely mention that eye- 
shade, for the next day his head was sunburned 
in strips and so sore he couldn’t wear a hat. 
I think I failed to mention that Father’s head 
is almost bald. 

He was soon joined by the neighbor, who was 
also dressed in work clothes. 

They began by draining the radiator and 
laying the hood and other parts on the grass. 

Of course I was much interested by all this 
preparation. I walked about looking at every¬ 
thing and trying to lift things, but they were 
all too heavy for me to move. Father laughed 
when he saw me trying to pick up something. 


DAD CLEANS HIS CAR 


81 


“A little heavy for you, isn’t it?” he said. 

He immediately became interested in what 
he was doing and paid no more attention to me. 

Father went into the house and came out with 
one of Mother’s pans in his hand. 

“We will put all the bolts and nuts in the 
pan,” he said to the neighbor, whom he called 
Bill. 

Just then a little child came around the car 
with a cracker in his hand. When I saw the 
cracker, I flapped my wings and “Ah! ah-ed!” 
for a bite. 

The child acted as though he was afraid of 
me and drew away. I reached up and took his 
cracker away from him and began to eat it 
myself. 

The child started to cry loudly for his cracker. 
Father looked around and saw what I had done. 

“Well, what do you know about that?” he 
said. “That crow has taken that baby’s piece 
from him. Blacky, you are a thief and no mis¬ 
take.” Then he drove me away. 

The man called Bill looked around and spoke 
to his child. “Now, quit your crying and go 
home to Mamma and get another cracker. But 


82 


BLACKY DAW 


don’t you come back, or Blacky will get you.” 

Father and Bill both laughed and the little 
boy went home howling. 

“I can’t have him bothering around,” said 
Bill. "I won’t get anything done, if I have to 
look after him.” 

“My, here is something nice for my collection,” 
I said to myself, as I turned my head first on one 
side and then the other, to look at what the^ 
pan contained. I picked out the brightest article 
in the pan and flew with it to the old chickadee’s 
nest in the apple tree, where I kept the rest 
of my treasures. 

After I had carried several things to the 
chickadee’s nest, I grew tired of going so far, 
and busied myself hiding them in the cracks 
in the well platform; also I hid some in the 
grass and some under dandelion plants. (See 
frontispiece illustration.) 

Father just happened to look around and saw 
me, as I was covering one over in the grass. 
He never said a word but came over to where 
I was, reached down, caught me and carried 
me over to the old squirrel cage, put me in and 
shut the door. 


DAD CLEANS HIS CAR 


83 


“Now, maybe that will hold you for a while, 
you black rascal.” He had called me that before, 
and I didn’t like it, although I didn’t know just 
what it meant. 

“Oh! how that crow can bite!” I heard him 
telling the man called Bill, as he went back 
to his work. 

Mother and the children walked home from 
church. When the children came into the yard, 
they cried, “Look! Blacky is shut up in the 
squirrel cage. What’s the matter, Father?” 

“Matter enough,” replied Father. “If any¬ 
one of you lets Blacky Daw out before I finish 
this car, you will get licked. Licked good and 
proper, too.” 

About the middle of the afternoon Father 
and Bill started to put the engine together again. 
They didn’t get very far when they missed a 
bolt; they hunted and hunted. They even 
crawled around on their hands and knees and 
looked in the grass; they found several that I 
had hidden, but not the one they were looking 
for. The longer Father looked the angrier he 
was. He called Pete and made him help, just 
because I was Pete’s crow. After they had 


84 


BLACKY DAW 


hunted for some time they quit, went over to 
Bill’s house, got out his car and went to town. 
They were gone some time, and when they came 
back they had a lot of bolts and nuts. At last 
they found one to fit and went on with their 
work. They didn't get very far when they ran 
into the same trouble again. This time Pete 
found the missing bolt in the grass. “Well, that's 
good luck!" said Father. “I think if you hadn't 
found that bolt, I would have killed that crow." 

“I don't think you ought to be so hard on 
Blacky," Pete said, “he doesn't know any better." 

“Well, I will know better than to start any 
kind of work like this until after he has been 
shut up next time," said Father. 

It was night before that car was put together; 
in fact, it was several days before it was finally 
put into running order again. 

All that long afternoon I had to sit on the 
perch in the old squirrel cage. 


CHAPTER XIII 


AT GRANDMOTHER’S 

T HE family was preparing for the journey 
into the north woods. 

Pete’s mother had hay fever and they always 
went north in the late summer for her benefit. 
Every one looked forward to this trip with great 
pleasure, for it was a camping trip to the Min¬ 
nesota lakes. 

Then the question arose: “What will we do 
with Blacky Daw? He can’t be left without 
some one to look after him.” 

Pete settled that, however, by asking his 
grandmother to care for me while he was away. 

The night before the family left, Pete took me 
in his arms and carried me over to Grand¬ 
mother’s. 

Now Pete’s grandmother was a very nice 
old lady, but she had some funny notions. One 
was that if she turned me loose, I would wander 
away and get lost. She thought the world of 
Pete and she intended to keep me safe until 
he returned. She had a screened-in porch at 


85 


86 


BLACKY DAW 


the back of her house, which was used at night 
as a bedroom by Pete’s Uncle Bob. Grandmother 
sometimes sat there in the daytime. She covered 
Bob’s bed with newspapers and shut me up in 
the porch. 

I amused myself by walking up and down 
on the bed until I had made a little hole in the 
newspaper with my claws. “Oh, what a dandy 
place to hide things!” I said to myself. “I must 
look around for something to hide.” 

My eyes fell on a pair of shoes with buttons 
on them that Grandmother had left in the sleep¬ 
ing porch. I tried to pull the buttons off, but 
they were fastened on tightly. I looked down into 
the shoe. “Ah, another nice place to put things,” 
I thought. 

I spied a basket of clothespins sitting in a 
corner. “The very things!” I said to myself, and 
taking one in my beak I dropped it into the 
shoe; then I went for more. 

After I had filled each shoe about half-full 
of clothespins I grew weary of the sport, and 
was looking about for something else, when 
the door opened and Grandmother came in with 
a pan of water in her hands, and set it on the 



“Ah, another nice place to put things” 
































88 


BLACKY DAW 


floor in the sunshine. “Ah! ah!” I cried, mean¬ 
ing “Thank you,” and I jumped in and had a 
fine bath. 

It was a good thing Bob’s bed was covered 
with newspapers, or it would have been good 
and wet, for I threw water all over that little 
screened-in porch. 

While I was drying my feathers in the sun, 
Bob himself came home. He didn’t like the 
idea of my being in his bedroom, in fact, he 
was kind of cross about it. I heard him tell 
Grandmother he would lock me up in the barn 
until he could fix up a cage for me. 

The very idea of his putting me in a cage 
both scared me and made me angry. I made up 
my mind I would fight being put in a cage 
the best way I could. 

Pretty soon he came into the porch and tried 
to catch me. I kept out of his reach. At last 
he got me into a corner and grabbed me around 
the body. I fastened my beak on his thumb and 
pinched it with all my might. Just then he 
stepped into the pan of water, slipped and fell. 
Just as he hit the floor I heard him mutter 
something that sounded like the words I had 


AT GRANDMOTHER’S 89 

heard Pete’s dad say when a mousetrap went 
off and caught his fingers. 

Just then Grandmother appeared at the door 
and asked, “Why, what’s the matter, son?” 

“Matter!” snapped Bob. “Why, nothing at 
all, Mother, nothing at all.” He scrambled to 
his feet, still holding me tightly in his hands. 

He carried me out to the barn, put me in 
and slammed the door shut and I heard a key 
scrape in a lock. 

Oh, how abused I felt! I longed for the 
family to come back, and take me home again 
to the back yard. I longed to see the old apple 
tree under which the squirrel cage stood, the 
plum tree at the well, the pine tree where I used 
to sit and look up and down the street. I would 
have been glad to see old Diek Pigeon, even. 
But most of all I wanted to see my master, 
Pete. I wondered how long a month would be. 

After T had sat on the work bench in the 
barn, where Bob had put me, I don’t know how 
long, my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. 
I began to look around to see what kind of a 
place I was in. 

The barn was large and rather dark, but I 


90 


BLACKY DAW 


could see a row of cans sitting on a shelf. I 
went over to where they were and looked into 
them. Some of them had lids on and some hadn’t. 
They were cans of paint. I looked around to 
find something to put into them. On the floor 
of the barn stood a coal hod about two-thirds 
full of those things that grow in the garden, 
called onions. I had heard Grandmother say 
that she had pulled her onion sets the day before. 
I got down and looked those onion sets over. 
“These are the very things!” I said to myself. 
“Won’t she have a time finding these?” I spent 
most of the afternoon carrying onion sets and 
putting them into the paint cans. 

The barn was also used for a garage, and 
Bob’s car was standing there in the driveway. 
After I had grown tired of carrying onion sets 
to the paint cans, I carried some and hid them 
in the cracks around the seats of the car. I 
found a little place where the upholstery was 
torn, and I amused myself for a while by pull¬ 
ing out the stuffing. I laughed to myself when 
I thought of what Bob would say when he saw 
what I had done. 

I had such a good time with that stuffing 


AT GRANDMOTHER’S 


91 


that I completely forgot that I was a prisoner. 

When Bob came home that evening he had a 
large dry-goods box with wire over one side 
of it. I was put into this and there I had to 
stay until the family came home from their 
trip. 

Perhaps you think I wasn’t glad to see the 
family when they got back. I was glad to see 
my beloved master and I was also glad to have 
my freedom given to me again. 

One funny little thing happened while I was 
with Grandmother. I heard Bob say to his 
mother, “Every time I get into my car I imagine 
I can smell onions; I am almost ashamed to 
ask anyone to ride with me. I can’t think where 
the smell can come from.” 

“Well, son,” said his mother, “Blacky Daw 
carried away about two-thirds of my onion sets. 
Perhaps he has hidden some in your car.” 

Another thing—what Bob said when he saw 
that stuffing strewn about can’t be put into 
this story. 


CHAPTER XIV 


SCHOOL 

F OR more reasons than one I was glad to 
see the family when they got back home 
again! I grew so tired of that old dry-goods 
box the month they were gone, I didn’t know 
what to do. There lay most of the trouble; 
there was nothing to do but walk around and 
around in that box. My! how sorry I feel for 
wild birds that are shut up in cages all the 
time. 

Grandmother was as kind to me as she knew 
how to be, and gave me plenty to eat, and I 
had a bath each day. Aunt Lou was kind also. 
She hunted fat, green tomato worms for me 
each day. She wasn’t at home all the time, so 
I took to watching for her. I always greeted 
her with “Ah! ah!” to let her know I expected 
something from her. 

But I was a prisoner and all the green worms 
in the world could not make up to me for that. 
Grandmother loved Pete very dearly, and for 
that reason did not intend to let anything happen 


92 


SCHOOL 


93 


to his pet while he was away. I understood it 
all perfectly. Grandmother’s intentions were 
good, but it was pretty hard on me to be shut 
up in a box. 

The family stayed as long as they could in 
the north on Mother’s account. They arrived 
home late in the evening of Labor Day, looking 
more like Indians from a reservation than white 
people. 

Pete lost no time in coming after me. He 
sat on the porch for a while telling Grandmother 
about their trip; then he took me in his arms 
and carried me home. 

It was dark when we got there. Pete set me 
on the perch in the old squirrel cage. There 
Was light enough for me to see that he left the 
door open. When he got into the house I flew 
out of the squirrel cage to my own especial 
limb in the old pine tree. Oh, joy! I was home 
at last and I was free. I hoped it would be a 
long time before the family took another trip, 
or if they did that they would take me. 

The next morning the family were all up 
early. There was a lot of commotion about get¬ 
ting the day started. The folks had driven in 


94 


BLACKY DAW 


the night before and left the car just as it 
was, and that had to be unpacked before Father 
could go to town in it. Most of the camping 
outfit was thrown on the grass to be put away 
later. I walked all over this and examined every¬ 
thing. There was a lot of talk in the house, 
about clothes being soiled; and Pete had worn 
out his shoes on the trip, so he had to take a 
ride to town to get new shoes before he could 
go to school. 

Little Sister was to go to school for the first 
time. Some of the neighbor children came in to 
accompany her and Pete to the schoolhouse. 
Altogether there was an air of excitement about 
the place that pleased me much. It seemed so 
good to be at home once more, and to have in¬ 
teresting things going on about the place. 

After a while the children came trooping out 
of the house. A thought came to me: If it had 
been lonesome while they were away on their 
camping trip, why wouldn’t it be lonesome with 
them in school? Why not go to school with 
them? The more I thought of this, as I watched 
them going up the street, the stronger grew 
my desire to be with them. At last,- just as 


SCHOOL 


95 


they turned the corner, I gave in to that desire 
and did what I had never done before; I took 
to wing and followed them. 

I flew from tree to tree until I caught up 
with them; then I flew down to walk beside 
them. 

Pete was somewhat surprised to see me. At 
first he laughed, as though it was funny for a 
crow to go to school. He changed his mind 
when some of the others asked him what he 
would do with me when the bell rang and he 
had to go into the schoolhouse. Then he scolded 
me and tried to make me go back home. 

When he tried to catch me, I flew to a near-by 
tree and waited until they started on. Then I 
came on a little behind them. The school was 
not far away. When the children reached the 
school grounds, I flew to the ground, and walked 
around among them. You should have heard 
the children shout when they saw me. 

“Oh, look! Blacky Daw has come to school!” 
they cried. 

“Ah! ah!” I answered, which meant, “Yes, 
yes! here I am.” The boys wanted to know of 
Pete in what grade I would be. 


96 


BLACKY DAW 


“I don’t just exactly know,” Pete said; “but 
he is smarter than some of you think. Blacky, 
say your letters for the boys. Now begin. Say 
A, Blacky.” “Ah!” I said. 

“Now say B,” said my master. 

Again I answered “Ah.” 

And so it went on until Pete had gone through 
the alphabet, I saying “Ah!” after each letter. 

Soon after we had finished the alphabet a 
bell rang and the children all ran to the door, 
formed a line and marched into the schoolhouse, 
leaving me alone on the school grounds. 

“Now, you go home, Blacky,” were Pete’s part¬ 
ing words to me. 

Go home, indeed! 

Well, that wasn’t what I had come for. Neither 
had I come to be by myself on the school grounds. 
I was going to go inside and find Pete, no matter 
how much trouble I got into. 

For a while I walked around on the play¬ 
ground. I could hear some talking, and after 
a bit some children began to sing. I looked up 
and saw that the sound came through an open 
window. At Pete’s home all the windows had 
screens, but, oh, joy! this one was without any. 


SCHOOL 


97 


I flew to the window sill and sat there for a 
moment, just looking about. The teacher didn’t 
see me at first, but just went on with the sing¬ 
ing. The children that sat near the window left 
off looking at their books and looked at me. They 
stopped singing and some of the little girls com¬ 
menced to giggle. 

“Ah! ah!” I called loudly in greeting to every¬ 
body in general. 

My, how that teacher did jump! 

“Oh, my!” she said. “What a dreadful, big, 
black bird! What is he doing here?” 

“It’s a pet crow and it belongs to Pete,” a 
little boy spoke up and said. 

“Well, it has no business in the schoolroom,” 
she said. 

Just then I spied a box of nice, white chalk 
on her desk. I flew over to where it was and 
began to take the pieces out, one by one. I knew 
I wouldn’t like that teacher one bit, the minute 
she called me a dreadful bird. 

“Here, you!” she screamed in a high-pitched 
voice, and she started to brush me off the desk 
with her hand. 

She didn’t frighten me at all. I just reached 


98 


BLACKY DAW 


out and caught her by the flesh on the back of 
her hand and pinched with all my might. Her 
hand wasn’t tough like Pete’s dad’s or Uncle 
Bob’s. It was soft and white and easy to pinch. 

She didn’t scold like Uncle Bob did the time I 
pinched him, but how that woman did screech! 

A man that the boys called the janitor came 
running in to see what the trouble was. He 
took hold of me and I let go the teacher’s hand 
to bite him instead. He carried me to a window 
and put me out and closed the window. That 
didn’t bother me at all. I simply flew to another 
window and started to come in. That man, the 
janitor, met me there. He gave me a quick 
shove with his hand, and before I could do any¬ 
thing he closed that window. 

I sat there a few moments, then I “Ah! 
ah-ed!” my good-by to everybody, took to wing 
and flew around the schoolhouse. 

I flew to the sill of the first open window 
I came to. I looked around. Oh joy! there sat 
my master at a desk close by. 

I “Ah! ah-ed!” loudly at him and flapped my 
wings. He was in the act of dipping a pen into 
an ink bottle. 



"It's a pet crow and it belongs to Pete” 





























































100 


BLACKY DAW 


At my cry he turned his head, and when he 
saw me his face turned as red as fire. Every 
other head turned, too, at my greeting, and some 
of the boys began to laugh. 

“Well, what have we here?” asked the teacher, 
a tall, thin woman with thick-rimmed glasses. 

Before anyone had a chance to answer I flew 
to Pete’s desk to examine that ink bottle. Pete 
reached out his hand to catch me, but I gave 
him a peck. Taking the ink bottle in my beak, 
I started to fly to the open window. But I wasn’t 
quite quick enough. Pete grabbed me and I 
dropped the bottle. 

There was a pretty little girl sitting in front 
of Pete; her yellow bobbed hair was about the 
color of molasses candy, well pulled. The ruf¬ 
fled white dress that she wore must have been 
her Sunday best, probably the occasion for her 
wearing it being her first day in the eighth 
grade. 

I happened to be just above her head when I 
let go of that ink bottle. Since this was the ink 
bottle’s first day in school, too, it was full. Most 
of the ink spilled on the top of the little girl’s 
head, and what didn’t stay there ran off and was 


SCHOOL 101 

absorbed by her white dress. I couldn’t have 
hit her more squarely if I had tried. 

The little girl screamed, and I bit and 
scratched and flapped my wings, trying to get 
away from Pete, but Pete hung onto me. 

The teacher came back to where we were 
and asked Pete if I belonged to him. Pete, in 
a shamefaced way, replied that I did. 

“You may be excused if you will take your 
pet home. The schoolhouse is certainly no place 
for a crow,” said the teacher. 

“You may be excused, too, Annie, if you want 
to go home and change your dress. I hope your 
mother knows how to remove ink stains from 
clothing,” she said to the little girl. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE PATCH ON THE CAR 

P ETE brought me home from school and I 
spent several days in the old squirrel cage 
for punishment. My, how I hated to be shut 
up! But I had had a lot of fun going to school, 
and I had that to remember. 

While the family had been camping, the car 
had been driven under a tree and a hole had 
been torn in the top. Pete’s dad decided to fix 
the hole himself and save the price of a new 
top. 

One day at noon he came home with a bolt 
of tape and something in a little can. He got 
out the stepladder and set it up beside the car. 
Next he cut a patch from the bolt of tape. 
Climbing to the top of the stepladder he stuck 
the patch on and started to brush it over with 
the stuff from the can. 

I was interested in everything that went on 
around me, and this performance interested me 
very much. I flew to the car top, got up close 
to see what he was doing. He slapped at me 


102 




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He picked up an apple and threw it at me 























































































104 


BLACKY DAW 


with the brush he was using and I flew to the 
top of a near-by tree. 

When he had finished he got down off the 
stepladder and carried it to the garage. He 
then went into the house to dinner. 

I gave him time to get well started in his 
meal, before I went to look at what he had 
been doing. 

I flew to the car top and walked around the 
patch several times, trying to get a corner loose. 
I had just succeeded in raising one corner when 
I heard the children calling their father. 

“Daddy, come quick! Blacky is pulling your 
patch off.” 

Pete’s father came out of the house like a 
cyclone. He left the door open behind him. He 
stopped just long enough to pick up an apple 
and throw it at me. 

I saw the apple coming, jumped up in the 
air and let that apple pass neatly under my feet. 
If Dad hadn’t been so angry, he surely would 
have hit me, but anger spoiled his aim. 

As my feet touched the car top again, I took 
a firm hold on the patch, gave a yank and flew 
to the top of the elm tree, while Dad was look- 


THE PATCH ON THE CAR 


105 


ing around for another apple to throw at me. 
Father called me some names and shook his fist 
at me, as I sat there in the top of the tree. 

Mother came to the door and asked him to 
come in and finish his dinner. 

“I’ll not eat another bite until I have fixed 
that patch, and then if that crow pulls it off, 
something will surely happen,” declared Father. 

He went around the house and came back 
carrying the stepladder. This he sat up again 
beside the car, cut another patch and proceeded 
to stick it on. Then he spoke to the children. 

“Now, you children watch and tell me if that 
crow lights on the car, and call me quick.” 

But I was too shrewd to go back while any¬ 
one was watching. I watched my chance and 
took it off when no one was about. I knew that 
I had had a close call when Dad had thrown 
that apple at me. 

We had a great time, Dad and I, with those 
patches; about as fast as he put patches on, 
I pulled them off. He fumed and fussed and 
threatened to do dreadful things to me. Finally 
he went and bought a new car top, and ended 
matters that way. 


CHAPTER XVI 


KIDNAPED 

YJ 

P ETE had many visitors. In the evenings 
after school, and on Saturdays, the yard was 
full of boys and dogs. There had always been 
plenty of excitement during vacation, but now 
that school had started there was more than 
ever. Boys came that I had never seen before. 

I heard Pete’s mother telling Pete’s father 
about some one calling our yard a “residue.” She 
laughed when she told it, and said the person 
meant rendezvous, but Father laughed and said 
that residue was the correct name for our back 
yard. He also said he thought Pete was a trifle 
democratic in his tastes. His friends were boys 
and dogs of all colors and kinds. 

I knew all of Pete’s friends, and was fond 
of most of them. Occasionally a boy would try 
to tease me, but as a rule they accepted me as 
one of them and I was allowed to go about among 
them unmolested. Even the dogs that got used to 
me let me alone. 

One evening I had a shock that left me wor- 
106 



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Something had been thrown over me 


























































108 


BLACKY DAW 


ried. Who should come into the yard, carrying 
papers, but that boy Jim who had stolen me 
from the stick nest in the old elm tree? I knew 
him the minute I laid eyes on him. I would 
never forget that ratlike face, nor his talk about 
splitting my tongue. It gave me cold shivers 
just to think of it. I somehow felt that he would 
be just the person to do such a cruel thing. 

He stopped a while in the back yard to talk 
with Pete. He seemed much interested in me 
and wanted to know all about me, and he offered 
to buy me back. 

“Sell Blacky! Well, I guess not,” I heard Pete 
say. “Why, I wouldn’t take a thousand dollars 
for him. He is the smartest and cutest crow 
that ever lived. There could never be another 
like him.” 

“Well,” said Jim, “you had better take up 
my offer and sell him while selling is good. 
Something might happen to him.” Somehow the 
way he said it sounded like a threat to me. “Re¬ 
member, I offered you perfectly good money 
for him.” 

“HI not sell him,” said my master indignantly. 

I could feel those evil, covetous, ratlike eyes 


KIDNAPED 


109 


watching me; and I also felt a foreboding of 
trouble. Every evening when he would bring 
the paper, Jim would stop a while to talk with 
Pete. I somehow knew he was watching me 
for a purpose. 

The nights were getting cool. Summer had 
passed and the night air had a hint of frost 
in it. I had left off sleeping in the top of the 
pine tree; I found the fat neighbor’s coal shed 
much more to my liking. 

One evening Jim was particularly late about 
bringing the papers. I was just going to my 
roost when I heard him coming. I had a feeling 
that he had found at last where I roosted. In 
the night I was awakened. Something had been 
thrown over me, and I was being lifted from 
my perch. I tried to bite, scratch, flap my wings, 
caw, but was powerless to do anything. It 
seemed to me that I was wrapped in a boy’s 
coat; my beak was held firmly, so I could make 
no outcry. 

I was carried for some time, and then I was 
unwrapped and set upon my feet in a dark place. 

“Now, you be good and stay where you are.” 
It was the voice of Jim that spoke. 


CHAPTER XVII 


ADRIFT IN THE WORLD 

I SAT where I was until daylight came. When 
it grew light enough for me to see, I began 
to look around to find what kind of a place I 
was in. I made up my mind to one thing; I 
wouldn’t live with that boy Jim, if I could help 
myself. I would get away at the very first 
opportunity. I was very much afraid of Jim. 
There was no telling what he might do to me. 
I was afraid he might try to split my tongue, 
as he once talked of doing. 

I found that I was in an old coal shed. I 
walked around to try to find a place where I 
might get out, but there was no opening large 
enough for me to squeeze through. 

I flew to the rafter where I had spent the 
night, and sat there waiting. I knew that sooner 
or later some one would open that door. 

By and by I heard footsteps on the walk out¬ 
side. I got ready to escape. I could hear some¬ 
one fumbling with the latch, and then the door 
was opened by Jim. 


110 


ADRIFT IN THE WORLD 


111 


Just as he stepped inside I went out, over his 
head. He grabbed at me and said some cross 
words. Fear lent speed to my wings. He called 
to me, but I only went the faster. One thing 
only did I want, and that was to get as far away 
from Jim as possible. 

I flew over houses and barns and trees. I 
flew for what seemed to me a long time, just in 
an aimless way. After a while another thought 
came to me. Perhaps I could find Pete’s house if 
I flew long enough. 

On and on I went, hoping to see some familiar 
object, but none of the houses had I ever seen 
before. I was lost. Oh, how I longed for a sight 
of the old back yard! 

I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse of the 
pine tree where I was wont to roost. If I had 
only continued to roost in the pine tree, instead 
of going to Mrs. White’s coal shed, all would 
have been well. Wild birds always sleep in 
trees; why couldn’t I have been satisfied? If I 
could only get one glimpse of the old back yard 
and my beloved master, Pete, how happy I would 
be! 

A flock of pigeons flew past me. A thought 


112 


BLACKY DAW 


came to me. Maybe some of them were Pete’s 
pigeons. I turned and followed them. I would 
be glad to be polite to old Dick Pigeon, even, if 
he’d be so kind as to show me the way home. 

The pigeons alighted in the street, and I flew 
down among them. They were all strangers and 
took to wing as soon as they saw me. 

I was so tired and thirsty that I just sat 
where I was. A small boy came down the street 
with a dog. The dog barked when he saw me, 
and the boy stooped and picked up a stone. 

“Oh dear, what is going to become of me?” I 
thought, as I again flew away. Poor little me, 
without home or friends; hungry, thirsty, tired 
and lost! 

Again I flew around and around. At last I 
came to a big house that had a cedar hedge 
back of it. The cedars looked friendly and in¬ 
viting. “I will rest here a few minutes,” I said 
to myself, “and then I will go on.” 

I was so tired that I took no notice of how 
long I sat there in the cedar tree. It must have 
been hours. The cedars were warm and cozy 
and I thought to myself, what a fine place this 
would be to sleep, if only the people who lived 



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114 


BLACKY DAW 


in the big, white house would receive me kindly. 
I had already begun to find out that there are 
several different kinds of people in this world. 
Some I would like to live with and some I 
wouldn’t. 

The place seemed to be a small farm. I could 
see chickens in a pen and I could hear pigs 
grunting, and an old cow lowed once in a while. 

After I had sat in the cedar a long time and 
was somewhat rested, I decided to venture forth 
and get a drink of water. I was hungry, too, 
but I needed the water most. Taking to wing, I 
flew to the chicken pen and drank out of the 
chickens’ trough. 

The chickens made a terrible fuss when they 
saw me. You would have thought a hawk had 
landed in their pen, instead of a poor, lost 
crow. The chickens made so much noise that an 
old man and an old lady came out of the house 
to see what the trouble was. 

I had quenched my thirst and now I wanted 
food. When the old lady leaned over the fence 
I “Ah! ah-ed!” to tell her I was hungry. 

“Well, isn’t that strange!” she said to the old 
man. “Surely that is no wild bird; it must be 


ADRIFT IN THE WORLD U5 

some one’s pet. I do believe the poor thing is 
hungry.” 

I flew to the fence and continued to plead for 
something to eat. 

“What do crows eat, Father?” she asked the 
old man. 

“Well I think they live mostly on field mice 
and green corn, but I believe they eat ’most 
everything,” the old man answered. “You might 
try him on a piece of meat.” 

I was offered a piece and I ate it greedily. To 
tell the truth I was almost starved. The old 
people laughed at me heartily because I made a 
gulping noise as I swallowed the last morsel. 

“I wonder whom he can belong to,” said the 
old man. “I didn’t know anyone in town had a 
pet crow.” 

About that time a little boy and girl came 
around the house. The old gentleman called to 
them: “Here, children, see what has come to 
Grandpa’s. Some one’s pet bird.” 

I flew down off the- fence and walked around, 
chattering, to show them I was a nice, friendly 
crow. I made up my mind to stay with Grandpa 
until I could find the way to Pete’s house. 


116 


BLACKY DAW 


The children seemed delighted with me, and 
tried to pet me, but I pecked at them when they 
tried to put their hands on me. 

“Don’t touch him, children,” Grandpa told 
them. “You can see he isn’t used to being 
handled.” 

The children played in the yard the rest of 
the afternoon and I played with them. Grand¬ 
father sat on a rustic seat near by and watched 
us. When the little girl lost her red mitten in 
the grass, I picked it up and they had a lot of 
fun trying to get it away from me. Grandpa 
laughed and said he hadn’t seen so much fun in 
a long time. 

At last a car drove up and the children got 
in and went away. It seemed that they didn’t 
live there at all, but were only spending the 
day at Grandpa’s. I was sorry to see them go. 
I was afraid I couldn’t stand it, if there were 
no children about the place. 

I didn’t know where to go that would better 
matters any, and was afraid to start again after 
the experiences I had had. So I went to roost 
that night in the cedars and let the future take 
care of itself. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


GRANDPA’S 

T HE next morning I had my breakfast with 
the chickens, much to the disgust of Old 
Red, the rooster, who wanted to stage a fight as 
soon as he saw me. Old Red didn’t like me one 
bit and never lost an opportunity to show his 
dislike. However, I didn’t spend much time with 
the chickens. 

Grandpa was giving the chickens their break¬ 
fast, and he laughed loudly at the fuss Old Red 
made because I was in the chicken pen. 

“Here, you Red, let this poor fellow have a 
few grains of corn,” he said. 

After he finished feeding the chickens he gave 
me something that was more to my liking than 
chicken feed. 

I began to think that Grandpa was a pretty 
good old man. Next to Pete, I believe I liked 
him better than anyone I had ever met. I went 
about the place with him, as he did his chores 
that morning. I was curious and wanted to 
know what kind of a place I was in. 


117 


118 


BLACKY DAW 


We, that is, Grandpa and I, went into the barn 
to milk the old cow. 

Grandpa had a large tin pail in his hand, and 
he took a three-legged stool over by the side of 
the old cow and sat down upon it. 

Now, I never meant to do anything wrong; I 
only wanted to get up higher so I could see 
better. I flew to the old cow’s back. She jumped 
and swung her head to one side and gave that 
bucket that Grandpa had one resounding whack 
with her hoof. Grandpa was so surprised that 
he lost his balance and fell off the stool. Most 
of the milk that was in the bucket went onto 
his clothes. Fortunately, there wasn’t much milk 
in the bucket, for he had just begun to milk. 

Grandpa acted as though he were angry about 
it, for he jumped up and scolded the old cow, 
and then he threw a stick at me; but he didn’t 
hit me. I don’t know if he even tried to, but I 
took warning and left the barn. 

I went around to the front of the house to see 
what I could see. 

I saw some children coming down the road, 
and I wondered if there could be a chance that 
I might know them. I flew to the street and 



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Grandpa lost his balance and fell off the stool 


























































120 


BLACKY DAW 


alighted in front of them. Alas, they were all 
strangers! I had never seen one of them before. 
They were surprised, but seemed pleased to see 
me. One of them, a little boy, held up a new 
dime for me to look at. I reached my long neck 
up and took the dime out of his fingers. The 
older children all tried to catch me, and the 
little boy whose dime I had taken ran screaming 
up the street. 

I flew to a near-by tree and the children threw 
clods at me to try and make me drop the dime. 
I just flew to a higher limb to get away from 
them. 

The children waited a few minutes for the 
small boy to come back. Finally one of them said, 
“Well, we can’t wait for him all day. Come on, 
let’s go.” And away they went on their way to 
school. 

I busied myself for some time, putting the 
dime first in one place and then another. At last 
I dropped it into a crack in a fence post where I 
couldn’t get it out. 

About that time I saw the little boy coming 
down the street with a man. They turned in at 
Grandpa’s gate, and I heard the little boy say, 


GRANDPA’S 121 

“There he is, papa,” and he pointed his finger "at 
me. 

They went up to Grandpa’s door and rapped. 

Grandpa answered the knock and opened the 
door. 

This is what I heard them say: 

“Good morning, Mr. Allyn.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Raster.” 

“Is that your crow sitting there on the fence?” 

“That is a crow that has taken up his resi¬ 
dence at my place. Whose crow he is I do not 
know.” 

“Well, this morning he robbed my small son 
of a dime that I had given him to buy some 
school supplies. Now, if he does such a thing 
again, I will surely kill him. I won’t have my 
children robbed in the public highway.” 

“Well, I am certainly sorry to hear this, Mr. 
Raster,” said Grandpa. “I thought he was a 
very well behaved crow, a trifle mischievous, 
perhaps, but pretty decent for a crow. Probably 
he is some one’s pet. I thought I might hear 
of his owner and return him to whomever he 
belonged to, though I know of no one in town 
who owns a pet crow. Do you?” 


122 


BLACKY DAW 


"No,” answered the man gruffly, “and what is 
more to the point I don’t want to know anyone 
owning such a bird. Robbing a child in broad 
daylight, right out in the street! Why, I won’t 
have it.” 

“Well, I am sorry,” again said Grandpa. 
“And rather than have you feel as you do, I will 
make good the loss.” Putting his hand in his 
pocket Grandpa drew forth some change. He 
picked out a dime and gave it to the man, who 
in turn handed it to the little boy. 

“I would hate to have the crow killed,” said 
Grandpa. “Some one must feel very badly over 
the loss of a very intelligent pet. I feel sure we 
will hear from his owner one of these days.” 

“As long as he lets my children alone, I’ll let 
him alone, since you have made good the loss. 
Well, I’ll be going. Come on, son,” said the 
visitor, and, taking the little boy by the hand, he 
left. 

“Now, Crow,” it was Grandpa that spoke, “if 
you know what is good for you, don’t commit 
highway robbery in broad daylight; I might not 
get you off so easily next time. You might get 
the death sentence.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


BACK TO THE WILD 

"C'OR several days nothing of importance hap- 
-*■ pened at Grandpa’s. One day was very much 
like another. I began to think it was going to 
be a very dull place to live. The thoughts of 
the old back yard, the boys and dogs, made me 
very homesick indeed. I wouldn’t have stayed 
over night at Grandpa’s if I had known where 
to go to find home. I was afraid to venture forth 
in search of it. Experience had taught me that 
this is a cruel world, if you have no friends and 
are lost. 

After I had been at Grandpa’s about a week, 
I heard a flock of crows in a field near by. It 
was early in the morning that I first noticed 
them. They seemed to be feeding in the cow 
pasture. As I listened to them a longing came 
over me. A longing to be one of them — to quit 
the habitation of man, and be wild and free, as 
nature had intended me to be. 

As the day advanced, this feeling grew on 
me. I was lonely. Perhaps I would never see 


123 


124 


BLACKY DAW 


my beloved Pete again. I didn’t want to spend 
the rest of my life with an old man like 
Grandpa. I wanted to be where things were 
happening. I chuckled to myself as I thought 
of the mischief a wild crow can get into, and 
never get caught. 

Once, while I was living at Pete’s a wild crow 
had visited me. He sat in the pine tree a couple 
of days, trying to persuade me to join his band. 
I was happy then and turned a deaf ear to his 
pleadings. Nothing could have induced me to 
leave my beloved master. 

I still hoped to find Pete, but as the days wore 
on, that hope became fainter and fainter. The 
longing to go back to the wild seemed somehow 
to take its place. 

The days were growing colder and I knew 
that winter would soon be upon us. How could 
wild crows live through the time when every¬ 
thing would be covered with snow? 

At last I gave in to the urge that I felt so 
strong within me. Taking to wing, I flew to the 
field back of Grandpa’s place. The band of crows 
was on the ground by a straw stack. I circled 
around them several times, and finally took cour- 


BACK TO THE WILD 


125 


age and alighted on the outskirt of the flock. 

At first no one noticed me. After a bit one 
of the crows saw that there was a strange crow 
among them, and set up a loud cawing. The 
rest of the band joined in the chorus and for a 
time you couldn’t hear yourself think for the 
noise. Some of them acted in a way that was 
ungentlemanly, to say the least. It looked for a 
while as though I would be forced to leave and 
go back to the cedar hedge. But I was persistent, 
for I had made up my mind to stay. After a 
while the cawing and the hostilities ceased, and 
I was accepted as one of the band. 

I was happy once more and soon got into the 
ways of the band. 

The leader of the band was a large crow 
called Old King Cole. Every night he led the 
band to a row of pine trees that bordered a 
cemetery some miles distant. There the band 
slept, cozy and warm, in the shelter of the thick 
boughs. Every morning Old King Cole headed 
for the feeding grounds, followed by the entire 
band. 

Life again was sweet to me. I was happy 
indeed. 


126 


BLACKY DAW 


One bright morning, late in the autumn, I 
saw my master. The band had been feeding for 
some time when I saw him coming down the 
road with several other boys. They all carried 
sacks in their hands, and I suppose were on 
their way to the woods for nuts. The heavy 
frosts had opened the shells of the hickory nuts. 

I waited until the boys were near and then 
I “Ah! ah-ed!” at Pete in the old way. Pete came 
running toward me, crying “Blacky, Blacky 
Daw!” 

Perhaps, if he had had some cheese in his 
hand, I would have allowed myself to be taken. 
As it was I eluded his grasp. He called and 
called to me, but I kept out of his reach. 

His friends became impatient and said, “Oh, 
come on, Pete, that isn’t your crow; that is just 
a wild one.” 

“I know better,” answered Pete, “didn’t you 
hear him say ‘Ah! ah!’ to me? No wild crow 
would ever do that.” 

“Well, you can’t catch him, and you might as 
well give up and come on. You are wasting a 
lot of time.” 

Pete gave up and went on with the rest of the 




*» W.V&V ; 

*N. >; 


' 


Blacky Daw, the leader of the band, wild and free 










128 


BLACKY DAW 


boys. I watched him as long as I could. Finally 
he disappeared in a turn in the road, and that 
was the last I ever saw of my beloved master. 

As I grew older I became a very wise crow 
indeed. I knew so much about the habits of 
man that the other crows held me in high regard. 

One night a great, horned owl found Old 
King Cole’s roosting place. Poor Old King Cole 
never had a ghost of a show with that monster. 

The next day the band was without a leader. 

After a crow caucus, which lasted some time 
and was very noisy, I became the leader of the 
band. Now I lead the band from the pine trees 
to the feeding grounds and at night I lead them 
back to the sheltering pines. 

Almost any morning or evening you can see 
me, Blacky Daw, the leader of the band, wild 
and free. 























































































































